


Toxicity

by towardsmorning



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Community: yj_anon_meme, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-15
Updated: 2011-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-15 16:50:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towardsmorning/pseuds/towardsmorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>(Prompt: So I just have to twist Robin's cute little laugh into something darker. He laughs like that because he's been overexposed in the past to the Joker's toxin. It's usually no big deal, because most of the time he's got his anti-toxin inhaler. But while on a mission he forgets it and has a fit.)</i></p><p>"Robin knows Batman kind of hates it when he laughs."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toxicity

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this, I did another unconnected but also YJ-inspired-by-RotJ fic [here](http://community.livejournal.com/infrayries/9881.html#cutid2) on LiveJournal.
> 
> Fair warning: these are self-indulgent context-less pieces of wish fulfilment because I'll never get it in the show itself. But hopefully they are entertaining little diversions nonetheless.

Robin knows Batman kind of hates it when he laughs.

He had restrained from it for quite a while after his... time... with the Joker. They hadn't quite gotten the anti-toxin perfected at that point, and it was touch and go about whether he'd be able to stop once he began giggling. Sometimes it wouldn't last long, but there were times it lasted hours and left him out of commission for even longer, exhausted and sore-chested. Even once they had it close to perfect, he could see the tiny, practised wince whenever he let any laughter slip out, even the instances (not as many as he pretended) that were entirely innocent of any influence.

But he can' help it. Well, he can, that's what the anti-toxin is _for_ , but it helps him let off some of the tension that comes with a fight, bound up in the remnants of toxin still hanging around in his system. It works, and it unnerves people pretty well, and Batman never actually asks him to stop, so that's that.

Sometimes it kind of worries him that he finds laughter to suddenly be this great stress relief. It never used to be, and sudden developments in his attitude to laughter paired with involvement with the _Joker_ of all people just doesn't sound good no matter which way he tries to put it. Not to mention the fact his laugh doesn't _sound_ anything like it used to. But the years have passed without any major incident and Dick puts it out of his mind. Most of the time.

And when he finds himself laughing a little too much at something a little too inappropriate, that's OK. He's a kid, he can get away with it.

*

By the time Robin realises he's forgotten to take the dosage assigned meticulously by Bruce every morning, they're on their way back from a successful mission. He tenses up over the handlebars of his bike when he remembers, and suddenly he swears he can _feel_ something wrong. Which is ridiculous. Nothing was wrong before, nothing is wrong now. He just needs to stick with the others and get back to base. He always keeps a spare dose back there. It's fine.

He ignores the feeling of something itching under his skin. _Imagining it._ There is nothing tugging the corners of his mouth. _Imagining it._ Nothing rising in his throat. _Imagining it._

He's startled out of his thoughts by a sudden burst of static in his earpiece as Kid Flash gets annoyed he's being ignored.

"Hello? Earth to Rob? Anyone in there?"

Robin opens his mouth to respond and the laugh that slips out feels neurotic and silvery, deadly between his teeth like a knife. He clamps his mouth shut and somehow manages a non-committal noise.

"Well excuse me, princess!" Wally huffs, and Robin barely even hears him over the sound of his blood rushing between his ears.

He tries to gulp in air without opening his mouth. The toxin is making everything sharper and blurry all at once, and it occurs to him that having an attack on the road is probably a bad idea. He needs to get off his bike, _now_ , before he crashes or collapses or _something._

The others follow him off road, of course, though at a less hectic pace. Dick doesn't even wait for the bike to fully stop before throwing himself onto the tarmac.

He wants to laugh. He wants to grin. He wants to set something on fire, scratch his itching skin off, he wants-

Miss Martian has reached him- while Robin panics she lifts his helmet off and looks worriedly at him. Her frown deepens as she sees the look on his face and Robin realises that it feels rigid, unnaturally so. A shaky hand raised to his face can trace the contours of a smile and he has to suppress a shudder.

Then there's another, and another, and soon he's shaking and laughing and absolutely nothing is funny about it at all, but it just comes in waves, implacable as the sea and twice as cold. He tries to gasp out that he needs to get back to base _now_ but it gets tangled up in his throat and he just chokes.

It turns out he doesn't need to. She calls something inaudible to the rest of the team behind her, all hovering nervously, and scoops him up. She's going to fly him, some part of his mind mutters, and the tight grip she has makes him want to thrash. He settles for pushing against her as hard as he can and trying not to claw at anything.

*

Batman is there when they get back, and he hears them coming up the entrance. One look at Robin and he leaves the way he came. Robin is still going strong, though his chest is starting to feel like he's coughed a lung up and he can't breathe properly, each gasp coming harsher than the last. It seems like an age before Batman comes back with the anti-toxin, with Miss Martian still holding him like she wants him where she can see him, wants him still and _safe_. He feels her tentatively brush out at his mind as a last resort at one point, desperate to calm him, but she recoils at the first touch.

Then there are hands on his face, a mask over his mouth and he can suddenly _breathe_ again, breathe properly. He sucks in the anti-toxin greedily, and Batman's face swims into view, mouth drawn tight like it always does when he's worried. The giggling is still there, but it's quieter, and his skin doesn't feel intrusive anymore. He stops wanting to claw things, stops wanting to- do things he'd rather not think about.

Robin nods and holds the mask himself, shakily. Batman lets go but doesn't move, watching as he draws in each breath and, by the looks of it, reassuring himself that Robin is OK.

Well, as OK as he could possibly be in this situation.

Finally he takes it off. Pushing a hiccup of laughter down, he tries to speak.

"Forgot... this morning-"

"It's fine," and now Batman is the one trying to carry him. He lets out a squawk of protest that Batman mishears and takes advantage of the resulting panic to stand up himself. Shakily, but he manages.

The sound of the others becomes audible outside and he takes that as his cue, marching determinedly down the hall to his room. He hears Miss Martian start to follow but she seems to think better of it when Batman does instead, moving towards the entrance to explain what happened as an alternative.

Batman doesn't say anything until they're outside his room.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"...Yeah," And talking is a bad idea still because that sounded just a shade too close to amused.

Batman kind of hates it when he laughs. But he'll stay anyway.


End file.
